Harry Potter: Albus Potter: "Gryffindor, Please"
Title: Gryffindor, Please
Fandom: Harry Potter
Character(s): Albus Potter
Pairing(s): N/A
Rating: PG
Summary: Albus gets Sorted.
Warning(s): Slight panic/angst?
Word count: 727
Author's notes: Old. Written for a prompt community.
"What if I'm in Slytherin?" he'd asked his dad nervously. He didn't want to be Slytherin. Everyone he knew had said such horrible things about it! VOLEMODRT had been a Slytherin! Evil wizards and witches had been Slytherins! He didn't want to be evil! What did it matter if the bravest man his dad knew had been a Slytherin? How did one brave man compare to loads and loads of evil men and women? What would it say about him if he were sorted into Slytherin, especially while the rest of his family went to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? Would that mean he was evil? Was that why he felt so odd at times, why he didn't always think he fit in, because he was secretly EVIL?
All that raced through his brain in a matter of seconds, and he felt almost faint from the panic rising in his body. Thankfully, he didn't pass out.
When he tried to protest, his dad had told him if it mattered to him--and it did. It really did--he would be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin as the Sorting Hat took his choice into account and it had taken his father's choice into account when it sorted him. Albus couldn't believe that, but then, he couldn't imagine his father ever lying to him. That news calmed him enough to get him to board the train just in time, and his fears started sliding away as the train got going. He waved until he couldn't see the platform anymore, and then he headed off to find his trunk and compartment, looking through his new books and letting himself enjoy the ride, excited to finally be heading off to Hogwarts.
That excitement ended when his name was called at the Sorting Ceremony and the Sorting Hat fell onto his head.
Gryffindor, please, Albus told the Hat. He thought it best to be polite, and he heard the hat chuckle at his thoughts.
"Politeness is good, yes," replied the Hat, and Albus nodded once, happy that he hadn't been rude. But then, something happened--or rather, it didn't happen. The Hat didn't immediately shout that he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, and he furrowed his brows.
Hello? I said I'd like Gryffindor. Did you not hear?
"Of course I did," the Hat muttered softly. "But I'm still thinking. You're not as easy to sort as some of your other relatives. Calm down, Potter! That's not a bad thing. It just means I've a bit more work to do," it hastily added, seeming to sense Albus' rising anxiety.
He felt ridiculous sitting up there in front of everyone, the stupid hat not complying, not doing what his dad said it would do. He felt faint, and he tried very hard to keep his breathing in check, focusing on a spot across the hall, right above the door. He kept his jaw tight, gripping the edge of the stool until his knuckles turned white, and he tried very hard not to listen to the stupid piece of tattered cloth muttering about on top of his head. Finally, after what felt like forever, he heard the Hat say, "You'll be happy to know I've made my decision."
Whew, he thought just as the Hat shouted out, "SLYTHERIN!"
WHAT?! "WHAT?!" The injustice of it all! Slytherin?! Had it really just said that?! He shot up and snatched the hat off his head, tossing it to the ground.
"You take that back," he bellowed. "You were supposed to sort me into Gryffindor! Slytherin is not Gryffindor!" He stomped his foot on the hat. "You stupid, tattered rag! You dirty piece of--"
A professor snatched him up and carried him to the Slytherin table, setting him down. Not only had he been detained, but he'd lost the first bit of points of the year for his house, putting Slytherin in the negatives, and he'd gotten a week's worth of detention. He sulked throughout the rest of dinner, barely eating, and he dragged his feet all the way to the dungeons and his new room for the next seven bloody years. He then spent the rest of the week hiding in his bed behind his curtains, making sure to time things perfect enough that he didn't have any time before or after class to mingle and listen to his new school mates whisper about his tantrum on the first day of the term.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Character(s): Albus Potter
Pairing(s): N/A
Rating: PG
Summary: Albus gets Sorted.
Warning(s): Slight panic/angst?
Word count: 727
Author's notes: Old. Written for a prompt community.
"What if I'm in Slytherin?" he'd asked his dad nervously. He didn't want to be Slytherin. Everyone he knew had said such horrible things about it! VOLEMODRT had been a Slytherin! Evil wizards and witches had been Slytherins! He didn't want to be evil! What did it matter if the bravest man his dad knew had been a Slytherin? How did one brave man compare to loads and loads of evil men and women? What would it say about him if he were sorted into Slytherin, especially while the rest of his family went to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? Would that mean he was evil? Was that why he felt so odd at times, why he didn't always think he fit in, because he was secretly EVIL?
All that raced through his brain in a matter of seconds, and he felt almost faint from the panic rising in his body. Thankfully, he didn't pass out.
When he tried to protest, his dad had told him if it mattered to him--and it did. It really did--he would be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin as the Sorting Hat took his choice into account and it had taken his father's choice into account when it sorted him. Albus couldn't believe that, but then, he couldn't imagine his father ever lying to him. That news calmed him enough to get him to board the train just in time, and his fears started sliding away as the train got going. He waved until he couldn't see the platform anymore, and then he headed off to find his trunk and compartment, looking through his new books and letting himself enjoy the ride, excited to finally be heading off to Hogwarts.
That excitement ended when his name was called at the Sorting Ceremony and the Sorting Hat fell onto his head.
Gryffindor, please, Albus told the Hat. He thought it best to be polite, and he heard the hat chuckle at his thoughts.
"Politeness is good, yes," replied the Hat, and Albus nodded once, happy that he hadn't been rude. But then, something happened--or rather, it didn't happen. The Hat didn't immediately shout that he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, and he furrowed his brows.
Hello? I said I'd like Gryffindor. Did you not hear?
"Of course I did," the Hat muttered softly. "But I'm still thinking. You're not as easy to sort as some of your other relatives. Calm down, Potter! That's not a bad thing. It just means I've a bit more work to do," it hastily added, seeming to sense Albus' rising anxiety.
He felt ridiculous sitting up there in front of everyone, the stupid hat not complying, not doing what his dad said it would do. He felt faint, and he tried very hard to keep his breathing in check, focusing on a spot across the hall, right above the door. He kept his jaw tight, gripping the edge of the stool until his knuckles turned white, and he tried very hard not to listen to the stupid piece of tattered cloth muttering about on top of his head. Finally, after what felt like forever, he heard the Hat say, "You'll be happy to know I've made my decision."
Whew, he thought just as the Hat shouted out, "SLYTHERIN!"
WHAT?! "WHAT?!" The injustice of it all! Slytherin?! Had it really just said that?! He shot up and snatched the hat off his head, tossing it to the ground.
"You take that back," he bellowed. "You were supposed to sort me into Gryffindor! Slytherin is not Gryffindor!" He stomped his foot on the hat. "You stupid, tattered rag! You dirty piece of--"
A professor snatched him up and carried him to the Slytherin table, setting him down. Not only had he been detained, but he'd lost the first bit of points of the year for his house, putting Slytherin in the negatives, and he'd gotten a week's worth of detention. He sulked throughout the rest of dinner, barely eating, and he dragged his feet all the way to the dungeons and his new room for the next seven bloody years. He then spent the rest of the week hiding in his bed behind his curtains, making sure to time things perfect enough that he didn't have any time before or after class to mingle and listen to his new school mates whisper about his tantrum on the first day of the term.